pick up the pieces
by keep my issues drawn
Summary: and build a lego house/if things go wrong we can knock it down. —Finnick/Annie, a collection, for Jo and Nona.
1. sometimes

**This drabble collection is dedicated to two of my RL best friends, Jo [X-Wise-Midget-Of-OzX] and Nona [Pineapple girl 1997] You're both amazing people and I love you.**

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><p><span>Note: <span>If you don't like fics without capitals, don't read this drabble

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><p>sometimes, she screams. sometimes she shouts out in pain, and grabs at his clothing, shouting out for help,<p>

'help me, please, please, oh dear god, help me!'

and, christ, he tries to help, he really does. he looks into her eyes and tries to soothe her,

'shush, annie, it's okay, you're okay, you're with me.'

but it's not enough

/

sometimes, she cries. sometimes she sobs until she can't sob any more, gulping in air, trying to breathe through the sobs that rack her body, and she cries for all of them, all of the ones she never knew. and finnick tries to comfort her,

'shush, annie, it's okay, you're okay, you're with me.'

he knows it'll never be enough

/

sometimes, she hides. sometimes she hides from the world in a dark closet, hoping that no one will find her, and maybe, just maybe, she could stay in there forever. finnick finds her of course, he always does, and he reassures her,

'shush, annie, it's okay, you're okay, you're with me.'

and he knows that it won't be enough

/

sometimes, she shouts. sometimes she rants and raves at screams, screams at people who aren't there, asking them why,

'_why did you do it? why, oh, why? dear lord, why?'_

and he tries to stop her shouting, because, christ, he knows it only causes her more pain,

'shush, annie, it's okay, you're okay, you're with me.'

/

and sometimes, she just stops. sometimes she looks at the world with a vague, calm expression, like she's at peace.

and finnick knows he doesn't have to do anything, but love her.

'i love you annie, it's okay, we're okay, we're together.'

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	2. i love you

**This drabble collection is dedicated to two of my RL best friends, Jo [X-Wise-Midget-Of-OzX] and Nona [Pineapple girl 1997] You're both amazing people and I love you.**

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><p>She needed him. She <em>always <em>needed him. When he wasn't there anymore, she wasn't either. Not really. She was stuck in her own head, her own thoughts and memories of things that she wished she could forget, but she couldn't, because those memories were things she could never forget.

'I love you Annie,' he'd tell her, and she'd smile, because Finnick never lied to her, and she knew it was true.

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I know this is short, but it's a drabble ;)


	3. perfect

**This drabble collection is dedicated to two of my RL best friends, Jo [X-Wise-Midget-Of-OzX] and Nona [Pineapple girl 1997] You're both amazing people and I love you.**

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><p>The house was never allowed to be perfectly clean, or perfectly tidy. Finnick always made sure there was a pile of laundry, a discarded book, a water spillage on the floor. Something, anything to keep the house from being pristine and perfect.<p>

When everything was clean, it reminded him of hospitals. More precisely, _mental _hospitals. He didn't want Annie to ever be in a place like that again, everything perfectly white and clean, no clutter, nothing. Call him stupid, but it made Finnick uneasy. It made him worry that maybe Annie _was _insane, and Finnick didn't like those thoughts.

She was not crazy, she was not mental, she was not insane. She was Annie and -to him, at least- she was perfect in every way.

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	4. who are you?

**As always, for Jo and Nona. And no, I still don't own the hunger games. **

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><p>He smiles at her, and her face clouds over with confusion.<p>

"Who are you?" she yells, "What are you doing?"

Finnick tries not to show how much that hurt, so he smiles, "Annie, darling, it's me, it's Finnick!"

Annie screams wildly, and begins to bat at him with her hands, "Get away! Get away!"

He doesn't know what to do, and he calls for Mags, the only person who can retrieve Annie from this state. Finnick sometimes wonders if he is good enough for her. He can't help her, once she's forgotten who he is. When she's forgotten that, he's useless.

And if Annie doesn't know who he is, then no one does, really.

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	5. maybe then

I haven't updated this for a while, and I wrote this about two months ago, so I don't think it's very good, but. Enjoy!

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><p>It wasn't always finnick&amp;annie. He wasn't always your only chance at a happy ending where you were even half sane. Once, you had hopes and dreams, that you knew you would achieve, because you were <em>Annie Cresta<em>and Crestas always got what they wanted.

In a way, you got what you wanted didn't you? You trained hard, and you won the Hunger Games. Wasn't that what you always wanted?

Dreams are twisted, but they're even more twisted when they turn into reality. When you won the games, what did you really get, minus a crown and eternal glory?

(Did you even care about the eternal glory once your sanity had gone?)

They call you crazy now, don't you know? They call you insane, 'round the bend', loopy, loony, you name it. There are plenty of other victors to give eternal glory to, they don't need you anymore.

(You've always just been a toy of the Capitol, you know that now.)

But after all that, after all you've been through, all you _will_go through, Finnick is there. While Finnick is there, maybe it's okay, just for a while.

(Deep down, you know that one day the crazy will take over. Maybe then, you won't even have Finnick.)

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	6. nothing

technically this is more annie-centric than finnick/annie but i'm posting this here anyway.

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><p>I will not kill again.<p>

I try not to remember the games but everything I hear and see and feel seems to bring them up again. Every single year twenty-three children die and to know I was a part of that… I _chose_ to be a part of that. Most people kill because they have no choice, only to survive, but I volunteered.

We are all monsters. I do not know a single person who wouldn't kill to save their own life. I would tell that to people, but no one listens to the mad girl. Even if she is the mad girl who won the Hunger Games, who won against twenty-three others and came out on top.

I don't think I could ever class it as a victory, though. Not when the games are the reason there's an empty bed in the corner of a disused room, a spare chair that no one dares mention. Not when the games have torn apart lives that won't be whole again.

That's what they don't tell you when you train for the games. That even if you're the last standing, even if you're celebrated and put on a pedestal; you never win.

But what can I say? I'm just a mad girl. I mean nothing.


End file.
